


Part of the Equation

by kattahj



Category: Chicago (2002)
Genre: Drama, F/F, Jealousy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-01
Updated: 2003-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-08 15:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/444519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattahj/pseuds/kattahj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mama's looking for something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Part of the Equation

The little doll of a girl twirled a blonde curl around her fingers.

"Any chance of a discount?" she asked, her voice small and breathy.

"A discount, huh?" Mama's voice was emotionless, and she thought about the offer, trying to pretend that it was unexpected. As if half of the girls here hadn't offered her their bodies sooner or later. These days, she rarely took the offer up more than once. Most of them were too subdued, too whiny, and that took the fun out of the whole thing. Mama liked to be in charge, but it wasn't any kind of a sport to be in charge over a wuss. For the longest time, she'd only really found joy in two guards from the men's department that came in thinking they'd control *her* – and in Velma. Velma was something extra, with her defiant attitude that said 'I don't have to do this' even with her tongue on Mama's clit. Yes, Velma had been a lot of fun, but there was a ruthless ambition in her actions that after a while became a pretty huge turn-off.

Now, this little thing looked awfully meek, and Mama had grown tired of her helpless act already, so she had a sharp reply ready on her tongue. She was tired of playing with cry-babies.

But there was something in Roxie's eyes, a glint of the devil that fit poorly with the baby face and the breathy voice. An ice-cold, stone-hard selfishness... and Mama might be mistaken, but if she wasn't, this could lead to the fuck of a lifetime.

"Well," she said, leaning a bit closer, toying with Roxie's hair. "I'm sure we can think of something. Just you be good to Mama."

And without ever turning away from the entrancing little doll, she walked up to the door and both bolted and locked it, hands behind her back. The lack of fear on Roxie's face told her she'd guessed right, there was definitely more to this flat-chested, whiny-voiced white girl than met the eye.

Slowly, she took off her blouse, seeing Roxie's eyes widen more and more for each button undone. Mama reached behind her back and found the hooks to her bra, letting her breasts fall free. She was proud of her breasts. They weren't fashionable anymore, but fashion generally proved to mean very little once you got as far as the bed.

"Come on," she said, stepping up to the girl. "Don't be shy now."

She took Roxie's hand and lead it to her breast, but she didn't have to make Roxie touch her – the girl managed just fine on her own, soon bringing up the other hand. Mama watched in fascination as Roxie touched her with those delicate little fingers, spreading them wide to caress as much of the heavy breasts as possible while letting her thumbs rub the nipples. Damn girl was like a little cat, and she looked just about ready to start purring.

"Now kiss them," Mama ordered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Roxie's face disappeared as she followed Mama's command, her tongue teasing sensitive skin. A moment later she looked up at Mama, her eyes as blue as a Siamese's.

"They're so big," she breathed.

"And they're all yours for the taking, baby," Mama assured her. This wasn't the way her sessions usually worked out, and she was intrigued. By now, she could have undressed any prison inmate with her eyes closed and one arm behind her back, so her hand was steady as she lifted aside that ugly skirt to stroke what was underneath it.

The girl was soaking wet.

"Well, what do you know," Mama said, stroking harder. She was rewarded with a low moan. That lying little bitch! Mama couldn't help but being impressed by her. All innocent victim on the outside, asking for a discount like she was doing some great sacrifice, and all the time she was just dying to get some and too smart to waste the chance of keeping some money she might need later.

Mama toyed with the idea of throwing her out without the satisfaction – or without the phone call. But she couldn't decide which would be the best, and really, Roxie had stuck to her part of the deal. If both of them were randy, so much the better. She hadn't had sex with a proper woman in many months.

She wanted to tell Roxie to get down and lick her. Say 'hey, this isn't all about you' just to remind her who was in charge. She pictured glossy red lips touching her dark pussy and gave a moan right along with Roxie, but she didn't say anything, just kept stroking. Satisfying Roxie was a pleasure too.

 

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"What do people see in her?" Velma's voice was as cold as her face. "What do *you* see in her?"

Mama shrugged and turned her gaze to the letters she was sorting. When Velma was in this kind of mood, there wasn't much to be done about it. "People like her because they think she's a poor girl who can't take care of herself."

"And what do you think?" Velma asked with obvious disdain.

"I think she's making pretty damn sure she won't have to take care of herself whether she can or not." She picked up one of Roxie's letters and sniffed it. Perfume – cheap perfume. Jesus. "And she's great in bed."

"Not better than me," Velma replied right away, and then, after a beat, "Is she?"

Mama put down the perfume-stinking letter and watched Velma with relaxed interest.

"She can't be." Velma was definitely getting worked up over this, which was unlike her. "She isn't better than me. Say that she isn't better than me! How could she possibly be?"

The fierceness in her demand made Mama blink. "Well, for one thing, because she's not trying to be."

From the look on Velma's face, she'd just said something shocking. And she had thought the girl was beyond being shocked. Having made Velma speechless was satisfying in a way, but damn eerie in another.

"Do you have any idea how nice it is," she asked to break the silence, "having sex with someone who thinks it's fun?"

Velma swallowed hard. "She's just using you."

"Well, at least she's not using me for a john." That came out a lot harsher than intended, and Mama regretted it. Not because she was scared to hurt Velma's feelings – that was a joke – but because she was leaving herself wide open. "I know she's a selfish little thing, I don't need you to tell me that. And it's not that I mind the usual way of things. I just happen to like it when I'm not the only one who thinks getting turned on is part of the equation."

"You just don't get it." The strength with which Velma pushed her chair aside belied her low voice. "You don't get it at all."

And by the time Mama got her head together enough to want to know what the hell was eating that woman, Velma had already left.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

If someone had told Mama that Roxie Hart and Velma Kelly would end up as a double-act, she would have asked for a shot of whatever that person was drinking, because it had to be pretty mean stuff. But here she was, watching them dance around with their machine guns like it was the most natural thing in the world. Fuck it if they didn't look nice up there, and judging from the rounds of applause she wasn't the only one to think so. They hadn't just made it out, they'd made it big.

So she had a good time, and she was happy going home. Kept smiling as she locked the door, got her clothes off, turned off the lamp – and then something made her turn it on again, her smile fading. She went up to the cupboard, getting the bottle of whiskey out. It was only natural to feel melancholy after such a great night. Nothing a night cap couldn't fix.

Someone knocked on the door.

She looked at the shot she'd just poured for herself and her hand wavered over it for a moment, but just then the knocking started again. With a sigh, she went to get her dressing gown and open the door.

It turned out to be Velma, in an everyday coat that ill matched her show make-up. "Do you want to fuck?"

Mama opened the door a bit wider. "Why don't you come on in?"

Velma stepped inside, shivering badly. That coat of hers wasn't thick enough for a cold night like this, and it didn't look like she was wearing much under it either. She took off the coat, dropping it on a chair without a second glance, revealing the dress she'd worn for the act. She hadn't taken time to change, or remove the make-up, or *anything*? This couldn't be good.

Velma took a step forward, and before Mama could react, she had a slick tongue tickling her lips. Well, that was only to be expected – but there was an urgency to the tricks that was definitely new.

Velma Kelly was getting *turned on*, and that was better than good, it was a fucking miracle. Now, Mama wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly not such a pretty little mouth that could be used for better purposes. She couldn't say what she wanted, what with Velma kissing her and all, but the way things were going that really wasn't much of a problem.

It had been many years since Mama got down on her knees for anyone, but she did it now, despite the effort it took her. If Velma was in the mood, she wouldn't be the one to ruin it. She trailed her tongue up those skinny legs, noticing how cold they were. Well, given the time, she'd warm them up, even though the goose bumps just might be there to stay.

She let her hands rest on Velma's thighs to keep them warm while her mouth continued up, taking a soft, red lip in her mouth. Somewhere high above her, Velma was moaning, her hands rubbing Mama's scalp in a way a lot more exciting than should be possible.

She could feel the shiver even before Velma's sharp fingernails started digging themselves down her skin, and she grinned to herself. Velma was still ambitious, and rough, and sometimes downright painful, but she'd finally let herself go enough to enjoy. Seemed like someone had learned a thing or two from Roxie.

After she'd satisfied Velma – and what a triumph to be able to do that – there was a short pause of indecision. She wasn't used to going down on her knees, and she wasn't sure she'd be able to get up again without getting more humiliated than she was willing to take at this point.

But instead, Velma sank down on her knees as well, graceful like only a skinny jazz hopper could be. "My turn."

"As long as you want, baby," Mama mumbled. She'd have liked to say more, but she didn't trust her voice.

Velma opened Mama's dressing gown and lowered her head inch by inch, kissing her way down. Her hands were working simultaneously, stroking lips and clit, and say what you want about Velma Kelly but she was a woman of many talents.

Roxie Hart was nothing compared to this. She should have known Velma wouldn't be satisfied until she'd surpassed her teacher and won back her position as Mama's favourite fuck.


End file.
